Angels Fear To Tread
by petvampire
Summary: "This line between need and sin was one whose reason angels feared to tread." Wincestiel. Yes, that's exactly what you think it means. Unabashed smut, written without plot, reason or shame, may God and Kripke forgive me.


"Damn, you're tighter then Sammy," the elder Winchester groaned, pushing into the body beneath him with slow deliberation, taking his time even though it wasn't like the angel could feel any pain. Castiel shuddered at the intrusion, a low, breathy sound of shock and need escaping him. Dean grinned, sheathing himself to the hilt in the slender body.

God only knew how they had gotten to this point - actually, _God_ probably had nothing to do with it. If he did know, he'd probably be smiting the two hunters working one of his angels over, erasing them all from existence. It was probably a damn good thing God didn't care, actually, Dean thought with a reflective chuckle, rolling his hips slightly and making Castiel moan once again.

The angel was spread-eagled on the motel bed, secured to the shoddy metal frame with a haphazard collection of ties pulled from the brothers' various 'disguise' suits. One wrist was bound by the angel's own rumpled blue tie, and though it was entirely possible Castiel could break out of the makeshift bonds with little more than a twitch of his finger, he had chosen not to. That was probably due to Dean's presence between his legs, broad hands lifting his hips, cock buried deep in the angel's ass.

"I mean, really," the hunter went on, giving another experimental thrust that sent the angel shuddering. "He loves sucking cock, but when it comes to takin' it up the ass..."

The comment brought him an only half-teasing punch in the side from Sam, who was indeed situated over the angel's body, lips wrapped around the prominent erection Castiel was sporting. The younger Winchester's body curved around the side of the angel's, knees planted on the mattress, one arm supporting him while his free hand traveled leisurely up and down the man's side. It was an awkward position, but one that left him tauntingly outside of Castiel's reach.

For his part, the angel was not saying much at all. That was possibly due to the fact that his mind seemed to have deserted him - all the sound coming from his lips was in desperate keens and mewls. If he had really minded the situation, though, one little brush of angel mojo could have had him miles away. He was staying of his own volition.

Maybe that was what had finally made Dean pounce.

He wasn't thinking of what had gotten them here, though. The hunter was entirely focused on the present, on the soldier of Heaven writhing underneath him. He drew back with a shallow groan, thrusting forward into the angel once again. With a brief glance down at Castiel, as if to ensure the man wasn't going to just shatter under his touch, he settled into a rhythm, rolling hips strongly and steadily into the other.

"Dean." Apparently the angel hadn't lost all ability to speak, after all. His voice was a shaky groan of sound, though, the word barely discernible within. The hunter grinned, picking up the pace a little, pushing harder into that willing body. Sam let out a muffled, disgruntled sort of growl around Castiel's cock, digging nails into the other's hip. His brother just laughed, smirking fondly down at both of them. "Careful, Cas, he'll get all jealous, and he's a bitch when he starts up-"

Another low, irritated growl escaped Sam, and he pulled away from the angel with a slightly obscene _pop_. With a grace rather at odds with his six-foot-plus frame, he lunged up and across the bed, catching Dean's chin in one hand, the other burying tightly in his brother's hair. There was no delicacy at all as their mouths met, all heat and warring egos and unsatisfied anger. Castiel could only watch, blue eyes dark and wide and drowning as the pair indulged in each other.

This was a sin. It _had_ to be a sin. But the angel could not tear himself away, and did not _want_ to.

Something Sam had done made Dean's hips jerk forward hard, and Castiel whimpered, bringing both of their attention back to him. The older hunter's cocky grin was still in place, and he thrust into the angel with that same force, this time on purpose. "Like that, huh Cas? Should've known you'd like it rough," he chuckled, voice darkly amused. "You've beaten the shit outta me enough times."

"Are you seriously incapable of ever shutting up?" In contrast to his usual tones, Sam's voice was rougher-edged, low and hoarse. One hand tugged harshly on Dean's hair, bringing a brief sound from his brother's throat. "Pretty much," the older Winchester rasped in response, though it was clear his vocabulary had lessened considerably with that one gesture. "Gonna make me, Sammy?"

Sam did not answer in so many words, just with a guttural sound as he latched onto his brother's throat, the hand in Dean's hair pulling sharply back, bringing the hunter's neck into a straining line. Teeth dug into the flesh, mouth leaving vivid marks against the skin, and Castiel shuddered just watching it.

Once again the brothers' attention returned to the angel, though Sam's eyes simply darted briefly to him, his lips remaining occupied with marking up his brother's neck. One of his hands crept down to Dean's hip, pushing him into motion again, reminding him that there _was_ a third party here, not just the brothers as usual. The hunter just chuckled and complied, driving back into Cas with a vengeance.

The angel could no longer think, could no longer so much as form a coherent thread within the confines of his mind. He arched under the other, and Dean's hands dug roughly into his hips, pulling him up as much as his bonds would allow, driving deeper into him. Sam circled around them, still feeding at his brother's neck, one hand falling to stroke the angel in time with Dean's thrusts.

Even a warrior of God could only endure so much under that double assault. Castiel came with a cry that held a dangerous undertone of his true voice, making a lamp on the bedside shatter in a spray of cheap plastic and wiring. Dean followed him not long afterward, the feel of the angel's body clenching around him too much for him to bear. He slumped for a long few moments against Castiel's chest, moving only when Sam tugged insistently at his hair again.

"Yeah, yeah, chill out, you needy bitch," the older Winchester muttered, though there was a definitely fond smile on his lips as he pulled slowly out of the angel, turning to lean over his brother, bending to wrap his lips around Sam's still-stiff cock.

Castiel did not have to see the movements of Dean's mouth to know that this was a familiar action for the brothers; Sam's body tensed, eyes sliding half shut, and he reached release quickly under Dean's practiced ministrations, silent, though both hands fisted tightly in the other's hair. The man shook him off with a definite affection as he straightened, wiping the back of one hand across his lips and kissing his brother quickly.

For a long few minutes there was nothing but silence, broken only by soft panting as they all fought to regain their breath. Castiel slumped back against the motel bed; Sam and Dean seemed to be leaning against each other as much for the physical support as out of any form of emotional connection. Unusually, it was Sam who broke the silence, voice returning a little to its usual tones, though an undercurrent of roughness still ran beneath. "Dean. Think we should let Cas up?"

The hunter laughed, green eyes turning on the still-bound angel, and he shook his head, leaning to brush a kiss against Castiel's lips as well, including him in that open, easy circle of desire. "Nah. He looks good like this. And you still haven't had a crack at him, right, Sammy?"

A shudder of arousal went down the angel's spine; this must be why his brethren worried about his growing senses of emotion, of humanity. This line between _need_ and _sin_ was one whose reason angels feared to tread.


End file.
